A Season of Unfortunate Events2:Ridiculous Ransom
by Bladelover
Summary: And you thought fandom was scary in the Milky Way!
1. Chapter 1

_This is a sequel of sorts to a previously posted story**, A Season of Unfortunate Events: The Miserable McKay**. Both stories stand alone, but they are definitely set in the same slightly off-kilter universe, and you may find that you understand the attitude of this story better after reading the first one. Not that you have to do what **I** say; what am I, your mother? Warning: this story contains serious irreverence!_

_Thanks as always to my wonderful betas, **historygirl** and **Madigirl,** who neve, ever fail me._

_ETA: Anyone who has kept up with Season 3 knows that certain aspects of this story have been thoroughly Jossed. Meh, who cares? This is now an AU!_

What it came right down to was that life in the Pegasus galaxy was, basically, about poking.

"Your people call it that, too?" Ronon asked him, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise.

Rodney sighed and fixed him with a pained expression. "Sorry, I forgot that you're basically an id with hair. No, I was _not_ referring to sex, although yes, some people do call it that. I, however, was talking about the amount of energy we expend on the act of searching, the constant quest for finding something, _anything_ we can use to defend ourselves or power the city. We occasionally refer to such activities as 'poking around.' Sometimes I feel as though that's all I ever do. Poke, poke, poke." He unconsciously provided a visual demonstration of this explanation by pressing some of the bricks in the wall of the ruins that he and the Satedan were examining.

Well, to be accurate, only Rodney was examining. Ronon was content to stand by and watch his teammate's efforts with a half-amused expression. Rodney was briefly reminded of the faces of the high school bullies who used to loiter in the halls and smirk at him as he hurried to chess club. But at least with Ronon, he knew they were both on the same side.

"Careful," smirked the larger man. "Remember what happened on that mission last week?"

Okay, they were _generally_ on the same side. "That wasn't my fault! There was absolutely nothing to indicate that those bricks concealed a mechanism for dispensing a security restraint compound all over anyone in the immediate area." He stopped and looked thoughtful. "Odd that it bore such a strong resemblance to silly string, though. Sometimes I really wonder about the Ancients, you know?"

"We could do with a wee bit more finishin' up," Carson growled, pacing warily with a P-90 at the ready, "and a lot bluidy less idle chitchat."

Rodney merely stared at him. "Oh, yes sir, mister _chief medical officer_, to whom I clearly answer. Tell me, when did they call you up for active duty, anyway?"

"Ye jest don't take off-world missions sariously enough, Rawdney. Et's gonna be yare death one day, lad."

"No, I suspect that accent's more lethal than anything in these worthless ruins. Why can't we ever find ruins that are less, well, ruined? Why don't we… Okay, what are you doing?"

Carson glanced up from ejecting and replacing the clip to his .9mm. "What does et loo' li'? I'm checkin' my pistol."

"Well… stop. It's disturbing. As is this suddenly regressive brogue. You sound like a _Highlander_ flashback, for crying out loud. Just go off and relax and think doctorly thoughts for a while, hmm? Some of us have actual business here."

Carson stalked away, muttering unintelligible Scottish epithets. Rodney frowned after him, then looked at Ronon. "Why is he even on this mission?"

"What do you mean?"

"Allow me to elaborate: Whyy iis hee onn thiis miisssioon? He's a _doctor_, for God's sake."

Frowning, Ronon looked perplexed. "Yeah. So?"

"So? Well, as a doctor, he clearly doesn't belong on an off-world mission where the purpose is _exploration_. Now, if we were here to transform people into another species or to inoculate three-quarters of a population to death, then Carson's presence would make sense."

"Well, you're here, and you're not an explorer."

"Yes, I'm not an explorer, but then neither Magellan nor Columbus would have been much use in finding ZPM's. They'd have probably tried to melt them down into jewelry or something."

"Never met either of 'em. Are they scientists?"

Sighing, Rodney answered, "Yes. Their current area of specialization is advanced decomposition."

Ronon just shrugged. "Well, I gave up tryin' to understand who gets sent on what mission. Gave up tryin' to understand lots of things, really. I just go out and try to make sure you all don't get hurt or captured."

"Which proves exactly what I'm saying. You have a purpose off-world. _I_ have a purpose off-world. Teyla fights and deals with natives and otherwise doesn't speak. Sheppard orders us around and makes ridiculously bad plans. Carson's like a fifth table leg: doesn't really add anything and gets in the way if you try to stretch your legs."

A flurry of activity across the ruins drew their attention. Carson stood with his back plastered against a wall, then lunged around with his P-90 pointed through a doorway. He repeated this action several times, obviously practicing.

"Gotta give him credit," Ronon said. "He's got lots of enthusiasm."

Heaving a sigh, Rodney started to pack up his equipment. "So do cheerleaders, and I wouldn't trust them with guns, either. Firearms, that is. Anyway, it's time to call it a day. There's nothing here to find." Flicking at his radio, he said, "Sheppard, Teyla – all done here. We're ready to move out when you are."

Sheppard's voice responded. "So soon? What did you find?"

"Not a thing. It's a technology wasteland."

"Thought you said those ruins were Ancient."

"They are, but surprise! Even the Ancients didn't leave hidden artifacts in every place they inhabited."

"Well, we've found stuff in other ruins."

"Yes, and we'll find more stuff in other ruins later, I'm sure. Look, let me try to put it in terms that you'll understand, Colonel – we're on a galaxy-wide Easter egg hunt, and there just aren't eggs hidden in every bush and tree stump we look in."

"What about that ramp at the stargate? You said that indicated—"

"I _said_ that it looked fairly recent and indicated a reasonably advanced civilization. I did _not_ promise a basketful of Ancient peeps and Cadbury crème eggs."

"Fine, whatever. I prefer the caramel ones anyway. We'll meet at the gate in ten. Ronon? Keep Peter Cottontail there hoppin' down the bunny trail."

"Will do." It didn't seem to matter to Ronon that he had no idea what Sheppard was talking about.

"I'll take point!" Carson shouted, running to the front of the threesome.

"Right, you do that. When you get shot, we'll be warned to find cover."

Carson sneered. "Fall in, Rawdney. Weak link in th' middle."

Ronon snorted. Rodney glared at the dreadlocked giant. "Thanks for the support, Og. See if I cover for you the next time you club a mate and drag her off by the hair."

Ronon just chuckled and gave the scientist an affectionate push to get him moving.

ooOooOoo

They were making their way over rocky terrain to get back to the gate, Carson glancing all around constantly like a paranoid paintball combatant. Rodney watched it for as long as he could stand.

"All right, that's it! What the hell has gotten into you, anyway?"

"I doon't knoo wha' yare talkin' aboot."

"Again with the Rob Roy accent! I swear, Carson, I just don't… Hey, what's that?" He plucked from the doctor's pack a bulky paperback that was only half-tucked into a pocket. "'_So You Want To Be A Commando_. Aha! Finally, the light begins to dawn."

'Gi' me tha'!" Growling, Carson yanked the book away.

Laughing, Rodney said, "So, it's a tough-guy thing, then. The going off-world, the 'look at me, I'm waving a gun,' the thickened brogue. FYI, though? While I'm sure you're aiming for Sean Connery, you're coming off more Jimmy Doohan. 'Ah ca' hold 'er togetha', Captain! The wee bairns, they ca' ta' n'more!'"

Carson was red-faced and poised to angrily respond when the sound of gunfire erupted ahead of them from the direction of the stargate. "Carson! Ronon!" Sheppard barked through their headsets as the three of them bolted toward the sounds of battle. Rodney scowled a little, noticing that _his_ name wasn't among those called.

Teyla and Sheppard were crouched behind convenient large rocks, returning fire coming from the tree line that bordered the clearing where the stargate was located. Running toward their teammates, Rodney, Ronon, and Rambo… er, Carson, sprayed P-90 fire liberally in the direction from which the enemy fire was coming.

"Rawdney!" Carson shouted. "Wha' th' bluidy hell did ye do this time?"

"Me? You were with me practically the whole time! Did you see me do anything to cause this?

"McKay!" Sheppard was cupping a hand to his mouth. "Dial it up!"

Right. He's forgotten that no one else ever took it upon him- or herself to phone home. "No, no, don't get up!" he yelled testily on his way to the DHD. "I'll take care of it."

The wormhole engaged shortly, and Sheppard signaled for them to start falling back toward the gate. He glanced at Rodney. "Who'd you piss off this time?"

"Nobody! Well, maybe Carson. But this? Not my doing, I swear."

On Sheppard's signal, Teyla and Carson ran into the wormhole. Sheppard sent Ronon and Rodney on, firing into the woods and then turning toward the gate himself. All three men were going to hit the event horizon at almost the same time.

Just as he was inches from that escape, Rodney felt something slip around his right ankle and yank hard backward; tugging him away from the gate and reeling him in like a hapless fish down the ramp. By the time he'd come to rest sprawled on the ground, the wormhole had closed.

The breath had been knocked out of him, which lent a certain extra validity to the fish analogy, what with the gasping and flopping. A pair of legs came into his line of sight to kick away his P-90, and he followed them up the rest of a male body until the entire survey culminated in revealing a face. A familiar one.

Slithering activity all around him on the ground jerked Rodney's attention to his immediate surroundings. He was shocked and horrified to see the shiny ramp he'd been admiring earlier today dismantling itself into strips and strings that looked like flexible Lego constructions. Currently, a strand of these writhing objects was wrapped around his ankle like steel cord. As a terrifying realization began to dawn, he gaped upward again.

"It's good to see you again, Dr. McKay," said Niam (of the Replicators-Last-Seen-Drifting-In-Space Niams) with a sinister smile. He reached down toward the man on the ground. "May I give you a hand?"

Rodney decided that a scream was an entirely appropriate reaction.

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

He had no idea where he was. The hand thing had frightened him so badly that he'd nearly passed out. Turned out that Niam was only offering to help him up, but hey, it was an honest mistake. Niam had then shoved his hand into the DHD and entered a whole series of gate addresses too fast for Rodney to note and remember. Eventually, the Asuran had dragged Rodney through one of the resulting wormholes.

Now he was sitting in a chair, firmly secured to it by more Lego-like strings. They were really creepy, apparently alive, responding to his attempts to free his wrists and ankles with appropriate flexing and tightening. He winced and tried to stop struggling, willing himself to overcome the burgeoning claustrophobia, whispering, "Wide open spaces… wide open spaces…"

Spying Niam's expression hardening, he immediately abandoned this mantra. "Um, sorry. Just trying to picture a lush, green meadow that spans for miles and miles. Not in any way making reference to space in the astronomical sense, because obviously, that's not a desirable place for, you know, a person to be. Speaking of which, sorry about that whole leaving-you-to-drift-in-space deal. It was an accident. Really."

"Are you suggesting that Colonel Sheppard _accidentally_ decompressed the airlock after locking me inside it?"

Good point. "Um, well, I guess I meant that it wasn't part of the plan."

"I wouldn't know, would I? I wasn't even aware that blowing up my city was part of the plan until after you'd initiated the self-destruct."

Rodney smiled anemically. "Well, um, you know… things were a little hectic when push came to shove. Lots of unforeseen circumstances. Your programming being reset at the last minute, for example, and you trying to choke Elizabeth…" Catching another dark look from Niam, he hurried on. "Not that any of that was your fault, of course!"

Things were firmly on the not good side here. Over the past few years in this galaxy, Rodney had become accustomed to being kidnapped, but this was the first time he'd been kidnapped by someone whose brain he'd hacked and whom he'd ejected into space. This was new territory; bad new territory.

Maybe he could put a positive spin on it. "You know, it couldn't have been all bad. Plenty of time to contemplate Ascension while floating in a vacuum, after all. And where I come from, having the freedom to travel is considered a great luxury."

"Perhaps I would have enjoyed the travel more if I'd had a means of propulsion," Niam countered.

That argument put a quick end to the spin cycle. Yeah, okay, so abject prostrating it was, then. "I am deeply, genuinely sorry about leaving you adrift, Niam. I never intended for that to happen. I really, really hope you can, um, forgive me." He couldn't help thinking he was hitting a new low by apologizing for something that had resulted in his survival and that of his team. This day was sucking a lot.

Niam just looked at him, no trace of forgiveness on his face. Not a whole lot of interest, either, for that matter. "I'm sure you do regret it, if only because of the situation in which you now find yourself. But I did not bring you here to seek revenge."

Rodney felt a surge of hope. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. I'm after something else. Revenge will merely be a bonus."

Okay, things were back to sucking again. "Look, what is it you're after? Maybe I can help you get it."

"You _are_ going to help me get it. That's why I've brought you here."

"Uh, right. Okay, so what is it? What do you want?"

Niam outlined his goal and how he intended to accomplish it. Rodney stared at him, wondering if somehow Sheppard's mind had gotten downloaded into Niam's head, because that's about how much sense this plan made.

"You have _got_ to be kidding. That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard!" Oops. Forgot he wasn't actually talking to Sheppard. Fortunately, Niam merely smiled. Rodney shook his head in awe. "Seriously, that's never gonna work."

"You believe your people will not cooperate? Do they not value your life sufficiently?"

"Of course they do!" Rodney shouted, even though he was far from convinced on this point. "But I'm not sure they'll be _able_ to cooperate. What you're asking, it's… well, I'm not sure it's even possible, and I _know_ it won't work."

"It WILL work!" thundered Niam, and the Lego-ropes reflexively tightened on Rodney's arms and legs. Rodney hissed in pain (that silly string stuff was a lot nicer by comparison to this) but couldn't help noticing a certain resemblance in this moment between his abductor and Gene Wilder in _Young Frankenstein._ All that was needed was a thunderclap and ominous lightning streaming in through a Gothic window. Well, and maybe Zelenka's hair.

"Okay, you're right, I'm sure it will work beautifully and exactly as planned." Rodney sighed and thought the thoughts of the dead man he most certainly was.

ooOooOoo

He hadn't spent as much time Legoed to the chair as he'd expected. Niam had fed him (which Rodney thought was mighty organic of him) and then taken him to the large-ish room that was his cell. It was furnished and fairly comfortable compared to most of his cells from previous capture experiences, although the Legosnakes were a little disturbing. Half a dozen of them of various lengths slithered around the room – on the floor, up the leg of the lone chair, across the foot of the small bed where he was resting. The metallic hiss of their movements was almost maddening.

Wide open spaces… wide open, snake-free spaces…

But there's no point in wasting energy going crazy when your impending demise is looming large on the horizon – things to do, people to wish were in your place – so Rodney kept it together, somehow managing to tune out the Legosnakes and pretend that he was on a much-needed vacation to a rather Spartan (if somewhat snake-infested) bed-and-breakfast.

He had almost succeeded in forgetting where he was when he heard the lock on the door disengage. He turned his head to see the door being opened by a granddaddy Legosnake, which slithered quickly across the floor toward him. As he registered this, he became aware that the ones already in the room seemed to have acquired new purpose. Several wormed their way under his back and physically suggested he sit up. Those ended up around his wrists, tying his hands behind him. The remaining snakes combined with the granddaddy and slid up the bed, along his chest, and coiled around his neck snugly. The suggestion was then made, rather firmly, that he leave the room.

He was led into yet another room, where Niam and some elaborate equipment of an unknown nature awaited him. The Legos around his neck jerked Rodney when he paused to nervously study the equipment, dragging him toward a chair. "Ow! Take it easy, will ya? This is the only neck I brought with me." The free end of the Lego lead wrapped itself once around Niam's wrist before settling its end into his open palm.

"Rodney!"

Startled at the tinny voice, Rodney glanced around the room, then looked to Niam. "Who's that? What's going on?"

"Rodney, are you all right?"

"Elizabeth?" Okay, it was some kind of communication equipment.

"What the hell have you done to him?" Sheppard was present, too, apparently. "What's that damned thing around his neck?"

Ohhh, great. It was a _camera_. Elizabeth and Sheppard were watching the whole thing and had just been treated to the no doubt highly entertaining spectacle of him being dragged into the room by a Lego leash. There just hadn't been enough indignities already today. Had to have this, too.

"Please communicate that you are in good health," Niam instructed.

Grimacing at the unfairness of life in Pegasus, Rodney looked into what he presumed to be the lens of the camera, jerked his head toward Niam, and told them, "What he said."

"Rodney, are you all right?" Elizabeth again, apparently stuck in a dialogue loop.

"Oh, yes, I'm just peachy, thanks! As you can see, I'm the hot new thing in executive gift products: Brain on a Chain."

"As I assured you," Niam said calmly, "Dr. McKay has not been harmed."

"Yet!" Rodney recognized the seething rage as Ronon's. "And you better hope that he's still in that same condition by the time I find you."

"You have no hope of pinpointing our location," Niam answered mildly, "and therefore are in no position to make threats."

"We'll see," Ronon growled dangerously. "I won't be standin' around doin' nothing while my teammate gets tortured by a walking sack of mechanical bugs."

"Said sack of mechanical bugs is currently holding the chain around my neck," Rodney hastily reminded him, flashing a slightly hysterical smile at the Asuran.

"Please, let's all just try to calm down," Elizabeth said, keeping her words even and slow. Rodney felt his heart rate increase noticeably. That happened to him every time anyone told him to calm down. His entire existence seemed ruled by irony. "Niam, I don't believe that you are a cruel… person, and I don't think you really want to hurt Rodney."

"No," Rodney said fervently, clearing his throat sheepishly when he realized he'd said it out loud. Niam raised an eyebrow but said nothing to confirm his desire not to hurt the scientist. Rodney considered kicking him but figured the leash wouldn't like that.

"So, surely we can work something out," Elizabeth continued in her very best _Let's all be reasonable adults about this_ voice.

"Yes, we can work something out," Niam said, and for one brief, insane moment, Rodney was sure he was going to add, _And don't call me Shirley!_ "Very shortly, I will tell you my demands. Dr. McKay's continued good health will depend entirely upon your full cooperation."

The leash went taut unexpectedly, the loop around Rodney's neck tightening, choking him. _Shoulda gone ahead and kicked him,_ he thought as he tried to gasp some air through his constricted throat.

He was aware of voices screaming "Stop!" – he thought he could pick out Elizabeth's and Teyla's, maybe even Carson's, although it was hard to be sure since the brogue seemed to diminish when he wasn't off-world – and of Sheppard trying to order Niam to cease and desist or some such militaristic macho bullshit, and somehow, he thought there was a dog barking rabidly, but then he sort of remembered one time when Ronon was pissed off and he was making these strange sounds and Rodney asked what the hell was _that_ supposed to be and Teyla told him that Ronon was cursing in Satedan, and Rodney said that it sounded exactly like this Rottweiler that a family down the street used to have, and wasn't it kind of funny that a guy with so much hair should bark like a dog with such a short-haired coat, and boy, did he wish he could get free of whatever was holding his hands behind him, because if he could, then he could reach around and take off this thing around his neck that seemed to be strangling him…

And it must have been twilight now, since the room was getting darker, and Rodney had an incomprehensible, inane idea that he was about to start working on his degree in advanced decomposition.

_tbc_

_It may be a day or two before the next chapter is up. Please stay tuned!_


	3. Chapter 3

The light was gradually returning to the room (a solar eclipse or something?), and Rodney was coughing as though it were his new passion in life. He was surprised to note that he was lying on the floor. What was that about? He remembered something about a dog. Maybe he was trying to play with it? Although his hands were tied behind him, and all he seemed capable of playing right now was the coughing game, and dogs probably didn't go in for that one too much. Not that he'd know from firsthand experience, since the only dog he'd ever owned had run away when he was…

Wait a minute! He wasn't coughing for fun! That bastard Niam had almost strangled him to death! It was all flooding his memory now, including that rather embarrassing stream-of-pending-unconsciousness inner monologue as his brain had begun shutting down. God – he hadn't actually said any of that stuff out loud, had he? Because he was pretty sure Ronon would ask someone what a Rottweiler was. As he struggled to take in more air for coughing, he knew that was a stupid concern. Constricted throats tell no tales.

"McKay!" roared Sheppard. In the background, Ronon howled.

"Rodney!" Elizabeth sounded scared. "Rodney, talk to us! Say something!"

Now _there_ was something he didn't hear very often. He tried to answer and triggered a fresh fit of coughing. Niam tugged on the leash, which was no longer acting like a noose, and forced Rodney to stagger to his feet and sit down on a chair. As the scientist wheezed and rattled, Niam turned toward the camera and resumed his calm discourse. "I hope you are now convinced that I am serious about killing Dr. McKay if you don't cooperate."

"Niam," Elizabeth said urgently, "this isn't the way. You were following the path of the Ancestors; you want to _Ascend_! If you do something like this—"

Rodney snorted loudly and rasped, "Elizabeth, you're not getting it. Pinocchio here no longer wants to be a real boy. The reset that happened on the jumper kinda changed all that. And while he was floating around in space, he discovered something he found a lot more intriguing than everlasting life on a higher plane of existence."

"What's that?" Sheppard asked warily.

Glancing up at Niam, Rodney swallowed painfully. "Joss Whedon."

There was a pause from Atlantis, and then Sheppard's voice. "Say again?"

ooOooOoo

"How many more times do I have to explain this to you people?" Rodney yelled, still hoarse but forgetting that in his frustration. "He was drifting through space, he was massively bored, he managed to accidentally tap into the stray wireless signals from our DVD viewing in Atlantis, and he fell in love with the Whedonverse. It's really not that complicated!"

"Rodney, we get that!" Elizabeth said impatiently. (In the background, he heard Sheppard mutter, "_I_ don't!" She ignored him and continued.) "I just don't see how this involves us."

"Right, because it's not as if the programming he's addicted to comes from our galaxy or anything!"

"What I _mean_, Rodney" – he could hear her gritting her teeth, which he'd only ever heard her do once before, after he'd used an Ancient device they'd dubbed "the mute button" on Zelenka – "is that I don't know why Niam thinks that _we_ can give him what he wants." She sounded as though she thought Rodney might have put the idea into his head.

"Oh, right! Blame the victim here! For your information, I've already _tried_ to tell him that we are scholars and scientists and G.I. Joes, and that we have _no_ influence on the purveyors of popular culture, and that if we _did_, the collective IQ of the population of Earth would be a good deal higher, and all comic book movies would be more like _Batman Begins_ and less like _The Fantastic Four,_ and the _Star Trek_ franchise wouldn't be in the toilet, and—"

A sudden yank on the leash brought this stream of words to an end with a grunt. Everyone got quiet, but Rodney heard Sheppard mutter, "_Fantastic Four_ wasn't _that_ bad." (How many times did they have to have _that_ discussion before Flyboy realized he was wrong?)

Niam looked into the camera with narrowed eyes. "Dr. McKay does not have time to engage in pointless bickering. If you wish him to stay alive, you must proceed with my demands immediately. What is your answer?"

Some tentative whispering could be heard, indistinct mutterings that increased in volume gradually as it became clear that no one could quite agree on what to do. Rodney consoled himself darkly by mentally reciting the last will and testament he'd left in a protected file on his laptop.

"Your answer!" shouted Niam.

"We're thinking about it!" Sheppard yelled.

Rodney blinked so hard his eyelids made a slapping sound. "_Thinking about it!"_

"No! I mean, yes… I mean, we're trying to come up with a—"

"Enough!" Niam had a fairly deranged look in his eyes, and he began making choppy gestures with the hand holding the leash to emphasize his words, pulling Rodney half off the chair each time. "If you _people_" (pull) "cannot give me an _answer"_ (tug) "then this _man"_ (wrench) "will now _die!"_ (jerk)

"All right, that's it!" Rodney sputtered. "Stop yanking my chain!" A shocked moment of silence was broken by a couple of ill-concealed snorts from the Atlantis feed. He glared into the camera. "Oh, that's right, laugh it up, Beavis and Butthead! It's all fun and games until someone gets a hand shoved into his brain. Oh wait, it'll _still_ be fun and games, because it's going to be happening to _me_, Dr. Laughingstock McKay!"

"Niam!" Elizabeth was desperate to regain control, or at least some footing. "Wait, Niam, please. Don't do anything yet. We—"

"Just do what I asked, Dr. Weir! I want the second season of _Firefly_ in production immediately, with the first of the DVDs to be released within two months. I don't care what obstacles you face, I don't care if it is difficult to comply. I want that second season, and I want it NOW!"

"Niam, we can't make that happen! Those decisions are made by the people who run the networks, and we have no influence with them."

Sheppard interjected, "Yeah, and besides, Joss has already moved on to other projects. He's working on a movie right now. Plus, the actors have probably gotten other gigs. _Firefly_ is ancient history. Well, not 'Ancient' ancient, but…"

"I WANT _FIREFLY!_" Niam roared. Rodney stared wide-eyed as the infuriated Asuran jerked him closer with the Lego leash and plunged his hand into the scientist's forehead.

_Took him long enough… and_ _this has GOT to be leaving a mark_ were the last private thoughts Rodney had.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This chapter contains partial scenes and tiny bits of dialogue from the pilot episode of Firefly, "Serenity, Pt. 1." I am in no way attempting to take credit for those scenes or snippets, and have done my very best to ensure that no one will ever confuse me with Joss Whedon. I don't even own the SGA characters, so I lose all around._

ooOoo

He was standing in dust amidst a lot of commotion. All around him, people bustled, hauling luggage and other freight, and there were spaceships lined up, parked, with guys in front of them hawking rides to passersby. The air was filled with dust, with sound, with the smell of humanity. Actually, there was a lot of that last one.

Apparently, he had already booked passage on this battered-looking ship. He wouldn't have been caught dead on it a few months ago, but he was desperate right now, although he was trying hard not to look it, and this little ship was exactly what he needed.

A man wearing a faded floral-patterned shirt was loading boxes onto a dolly, including his special box, the box containing everything he'd risked his entire future to protect.

"Please be careful with that," he told the man.

He heard his name spoken by the young female mechanic who'd sold him his passage. "Mal, this is Simon." To him, she said, "This is our captain."

The taller man with the shaggy hair and rough-hewn manner stared him down. Simon stared back impassively. He knew he couldn't afford to antagonize the man, but his deep fear of discovery was making him suspicious of everyone who might betray him to the Alliance.

"Captain Reynolds," he said stiffly.

"Welcome aboard," answered Reynolds perfunctorily before turning back to the mechanic… Kaylee, that was her name. "This all we got?"

Simon breathed an invisible sigh of relief as the brief but glaring spotlight of the captain's attention left him. Now he boarded the ship, glancing worriedly after the box. Everything depended on being able to keep tabs on it, to ensure it wasn't battered or exposed to too much heat, or too little. So much was at stake, not just for him, but for…

He frowned. Something about this wasn't right. He just wasn't sure what it was. He was feeling… constrained, manipulated, almost as though some unseen puppeteer was controlling his actions, telling him what to say.

Simon shook himself and tried to concentrate on remaining inconspicuous.

But later, that feeling of wrongness returned even stronger when the captain was addressing the passengers, telling them the rules, the mealtimes, that they couldn't have access to the cargo bay without an escort. Simon bristled at that. "Some of my personal effects are in the cargo bay."

Reynolds said blandly, "I figure you all got luggage you'll need to get into. Soon as we're done here we'll be happy to fetch 'em with you. Now I have to tell you—"

"What kind of answer is that?" Simon demanded. "You honestly think that I'm going to let some flunky stand by and watch me rifle through my underwear and personal care products? I bought a ticket for a passenger ship, not a prison ship!" A euphoric sense of liberty coursed through him as he shook off the constraints that had been dictating his words. "And really, why should I need an escort in here? I'm not interested in anyone's luggage but mine, and as for any cargo you're carrying, well, believe me, it—"

"I'm powerful sorry that my rules are not to your liking," interrupted the captain with a glare, "but they are what they are, and there's no changin' them." He returned to addressing all the passengers. "Now I have to tell you all one other thing and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, we've been ordered by the Alliance to drop some medical supplies on Whitefall. It's the fourth moon on Athens, a bit out of our way, but we should have you on Boros no more than a day off schedule. Is that gonna be all right for everyone?"

The tall clergyman among them – what was his name? Page? No, Book – just said, "Jake by me."

Simon, on the other hand, couldn't just let this one go. "Well, of _course_ it's not all right! What do you think, you can just _change the schedule_ without even asking your paying passengers just because you didn't have the backbone to tell the Alliance that you'd drop the supplies _after_ you took us to Boros?"

The Shepherd looked sternly disapproving. "Young man, the people on that moon are counting on those medical supplies. Surely your schedule can tolerate a day's delay in order for people to get something they just might be desperate for."

He snorted and turned back to Reynolds. "These medical supplies – what are they, exactly?"

"I honestly didn't ask." The captain's voice was as cold as space.

"Right, so they could be anything. You may well be delaying our arrival on Boros so that the good people of Whitehorse—"

"White_hall,_" corrected Book.

"Whatever," Simon said impatiently, waving a hand. "For all we know, we could be giving up a whole day of travel time to see to it that they get their desperately-needed shipment of condoms and Vaseline!"

The captain's second-in-command – he'd heard her called Zoe – apparently had decided it was time to intervene. "The border moons are always short on vital supplies. What we're delivering is most likely something essential – plasma, insulin, that sort of thing."

"Well, that's simple enough to ascertain. Let's open up the boxes and see what's inside. If it truly is units of blood or the cure for cancer, then we delay. If it's band-aids and cotton swabs, then we—"

He felt a lightning bolt striking his forehead and gasped. He opened his eyes to find himself looking into Niam's rage-filled face.

"Stop that! You're ruining the story!"

"Rodney! Are you all right?" Elizabeth's tinny voice demanded from the speakers. Honestly, for a renowned diplomat, she could certainly be repetitive in her spoken communications. If this was how she talked during negotiations, he suspected that opposing sides reached agreements just to escape her tediously redundant remarks.

He glared at Niam. "Don't yell at _me!_ You can't just stick some random person into a story and expect it to all come out the same. Especially when you give me a character so completely different from how I really am! What were you thinking, anyway? That you could just declare me to be Simon and I'd go in walking and talking exactly like him? It's a story that was written for those specific characters. You can't just fold me up and stuff me into a character that I have nothing in common with!"

Niam seemed confused. "Is that not exactly what the actors in the program originally did? Suppressed their own personalities for the sake of pretending to be those characters?"

Into the short silence that followed, Sheppard said, "Well, he's got a point there."

Glaring into the camera lens, Rodney growled, "You know, when I'm actually looking for input from you, I'll whistle 'Send in the Clowns,' okay?" To Niam: "Yes, yes, yes, of course that's what actors do, but in case you really haven't noticed yet, _I am not an actor!_ I'm a brilliant astrophysicist who has _no_ interest in pretending to be a young fugitive medical doctor in a futuristic space western!"

"I do not require your _interest,_ Dr. McKay! And in case _you_ haven't noticed, this is supposed to be torturing you. That would tend to suggest that you should not enjoy it!"

"Oh, it's annoying, all right, I'll give you that, but torture?" Rodney snorted. "_Lost in Space_ would be torture. _Buck Rodgers_ would be torture. _Back to the Future_ would be torture!"

"Hey!" he heard Sheppard cry.

"Niam," Elizabeth was saying, "let's talk about alternatives here. I'm asking you as one sentient being to another not to put Rodney through that again. In my country, we have a set of conventions that govern the treatment of prisoners, and we—"

"Dr. Weir, if you wish to spare Dr. McKay additional torture, I suggest that you devote yourself to carrying out my demands."

"Right, Elizabeth!" Rodney blurted imprudently, his hands twisting in the Lego-rope, itching to be waved around. "Just get Whedon on the phone and explain the situation to him. I'm sure he'll be happy to help us out. And while you're at it, tell him I have a few suggestions for _Wonder Woman_ that will totally kill at the box office."

"Hey, yeah, so do I!"

"Yes, Colonel, but mine sound like an adult came up with them."

"I happen to think that making it an invisible _helicopter_ would be a great update!"

"Oh, let me give _you_ an 'update'—"

"Auugggh, enough of this!" bellowed Niam, burying his hand in Rodney's forehead once more.

"We're not finished with this yet, McKay!" Sheppard's taunt was just barely audible over the resumption of the open-brain massage.


End file.
